


Wish You Were Sober

by TheCamusTheory



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, Even though I know nothing about being crossfaded, Getting Together, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), The Cut that Always Bleeds, Wish You Were Sober, conan gray song inspired, crossfaded, it's fine, kid krow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCamusTheory/pseuds/TheCamusTheory
Summary: Keith tears his eyes away from Lance's face and tries to loosen his death grip on his mostly-full cup, that he really only has to at least appear as though he belongs here. He eyes the window to his left. Daydreams about walking over, shoving it open, and just making an escape from this actual hell. So tempting. But that would defeat the purpose of why he’s even here, and all his suffering would be pointless.Because while Lance will guaranteed ignore Keith the entire time they’re at this stupid party, he will just as guaranteed leave with Keith when it’s finally over. And if Keith wasn’t here… he doesn’t really like to think about what might happen. As much as Keith might truly hate Lance sometimes, like right now in particular, he’s also completely and hopelessly gone for him (emphasis on the hopeless).A Klance oneshot based on Conan Gray's Wish You Were Sober, and a bit of influence from The Cut that Always Bleeds because the Kid Krow album is amazing and I've been listening to it at work a lot!I was so surprised there weren't any Klance fics based off this song yet, but you know what they say, if you want it done right *shrugs*
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	Wish You Were Sober

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you are here hoping for more from my The Half of It AU........ I'm sorry this isn't that, but I'm hoping to get to that soon!
> 
> In the mean time, I hope you enjoy this oneshot, I'd love to hear what you think in the comments! Also listen to Kid Krow if you haven't!

This party’s shit.

Keith slumps into sagging couch cushions, trying to ignore the spring digging into his tailbone. Electronic music thumps through the air, drowning out the conversations of the people all around the room as Keith stares intently at the liquid swirling in his cup, wishing he were anywhere else. The only reason he’s even on this shitty frat house couch is because… well…

Keith’s eyes cut away from his drink as Lance’s laughter rings across the room. In the past few months it’s become a siren call to Keith. He’s powerless to resist it. Lance glows amid the bland party-goers, each more generic and dull than the last. Keith doesn’t get why Lance wants to socialize with them. Every person here sucks, except for Lance. Lance, who abandoned Keith as soon as they made it through the door, like he always does, and who is currently leaned up against some girl Keith is certain Lance has never met, trading drinks like he already trusts her even though Keith would be willing to bet he won’t even remember her name in the morning.

Keith tears his eyes away and tries to loosen his death grip on his mostly-full cup, that he really only has to at least appear as though he belongs here. He eyes the window to his left. Daydreams about walking over, shoving it open, and just making an escape from this actual hell. So tempting. But that would defeat the purpose of why he’s even here, and all his suffering would be pointless.

Because while Lance will guaranteed ignore Keith the entire time they’re at this stupid party, he will just as guaranteed leave with Keith when it’s finally over. And if Keith wasn’t here… he doesn’t really like to think about what might happen. As much as Keith might truly hate Lance sometimes, like right now in particular, he’s also completely and hopelessly gone for him (emphasis on the hopeless).

Giving up on his window-escape daydream, Keith gives in and does what he always does to pass time at lame parties he can’t wait to end: indulge in memories of when he and Lance are alone.

Keith’s favorite times are when Lance is completely sober. They meet up every morning and stop for coffee on their way to their morning classes. Lance is still mostly asleep and he leans into Keith as they walk. And Keith huffs and bumps his shoulder like it annoys him even though he loves it.

They study together in the library, which usually devolves into Lance doing anything he can to distract them, like coercing Keith into games of paper football, or doodling all over Keith’s notes when he refuses to pay attention to him, or pointing out different abstract art pieces on the walls and making up stories about what inspired them (“Ok, hear me out, this one’s clearly about microwaving frozen lasagna. Keith! Stop laughing, this is a serious art discussion!”) They get dirty looks from some of the more studious library patrons, but most people just ignore them.

And then there’s the times Lance isn’t sober. A path they’ve been down several times and are surely headed down again tonight. It’s the same every time they go to a party: Lance peels off as soon as they enter whatever house it is that weekend and immediately goes for drinks. Keith finds some place to brood, his resting bitch face enough to keep most people at bay, and those that don’t take the hint quickly give up when they realize their conversation with him is completely one-sided. Then, after a few hours, Lance finally looks at Keith for the first time all night, and that’s all Keith needs to go sling Lance’s arm over his shoulders and haul him out the door. They find Lance’s shitty blue Rover wherever they parked it and then…they both end up in the back seat.

Keith still isn’t sure how it happened the first time, or every time since then. And he knows he shouldn’t, for so many reasons, he shouldn’t, and part of him hates it, but the bigger part of him will never be able to say no to Lance. Even when he’s so drunk he can’t keep his balance. Even when he never mentions it the next day, acts like there’s nothing between them, like Keith isn’t dying a little every time they do this. He shouldn’t, but he’s weak and impulsive and now that he knows the taste of Lance’s mouth he’s even more so. So if Lance asks, Keith will give him anything. Even if he’s breaking his own heart in the process.

Keith’s in the middle of thinking back to last weekend, Lance pressing him against his car door, fingers gripping Keith’s hips, his thumb slipping under Keith’s shirt, grazing his hipbone, causing him to shiver both in the memory and in the moment, when suddenly there’s Lance, right in front of him, right now, at the party.

For a second Keith just stares, it hasn’t been long enough for Lance to want to leave, and Lance never comes up to him when their out. Lance just stares back, as Keith takes in his ripped jeans, v-neck t-shirt that he did that stupid half-tucked half-untucked thing that actually looks good on him for some reason, the slight sheen of sweat across his forehead causing his bangs to stick to his face, until suddenly he’s stumbling forward and now he’s in Keith’s lap, a knee on either side of Keith’s hips.

“Um…” Keith feels his face heat up, not sure what to do with a lap full of Lance with other people around despite their growing intimacy in the backseat of Lance’s car. He puts his hands on Lance’s shoulders and tries to get a good look at his face, to figure out what’s going on.

“Lance…are you alright?”

“I’m great” Lance’s voice moves sluggishly, a bit like early morning Lance but not quite, “wanna kiss you,” is all he says, more a sigh than actual words, before dipping down for Keith’s lips.

Panicked and confused, Keith ducks out of Lance’s trajectory, using his leverage on his shoulders to help keep Lance at bay. His heart is racing in his chest, but something feels wrong. Lance has never acted like this before.

It’s then that Keith notices a distinct scent, and catches sight of the joint dangling between Lance’s fingers. Keith plucks it away from him before he accidentally hurts one of them.

“Lance, where’d you get this?”

“Get what? Why aren’t we kissing?” Lance’s hands start to roam Keith’s chest now that he’s not holding the joint anymore (maybe he was more aware of it than Keith was giving him credit for) and Keith tries to keep his head straight and go over the facts.

1\. Lance is crossfaded from some stranger’s weed.  
2\. Keith is pretty sure this is Lance’s first time being crossfaded, usually keeping drinking and smoking as distinctly separate activities.  
3\. Crossfaded Lance is apparently horny, if the current groping is anything to go by.  
4\. Keith is so not prepared to deal with a crossfaded, horny Lance in the middle of this party surrounded by all these people.

So maybe tonight isn’t going to go the same as all the other nights.

Keith takes a deep breath, prays for strength, and grabs Lance’s wrists, removing his hands from his chest and holding them behind Lance’s back. While this fixes the groping situation, now Keith practically has his arms around Lance, and Keith hadn’t considered the fact that their faces would be mere inches from each other in this position.

“Hmmm,” Lance hums as he stares down at Keith’s lips, and before Keith can force himself to react, Lance leans forward and kisses him.

Like every time, Lance’s lips are warm and soft. And while on past nights, Lance had pretty quickly escalated kissing to making out, right now, he just kisses Keith, breathing deeply through his nose like he’s savoring the bizarrely domestic display. Keith’s so thrown off that he gets lost in it a bit, forgets for a second how his heart aches, forgets that Lance isn’t his, that what feels like such a loving gesture to him is just an inebriated mistake to Lance. But then he remembers.

Keith pulls back first, and for some reason, he feels pierced through the chest by this one gentle moment more so than he ever has when they’ve gotten hot and heavy in Lance’s car. It’s what he wants, what he dreams about at night, what he hardly dares to let himself consider in the light of day, but god, he wishes Lance were sober. He can’t do this anymore… he can’t keep kidding himself like this. Apparently there are some things he isn’t willing to give to Lance. Not without something in return at least.

Keith pushes Lance off his lap and stands up, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him towards the door. In spite of Lance’s half-formed protests, Keith’s made the executive decision that their night is ending early.

******************************************************************************************************************************

They’ve made it to the sidewalk up to Lance’s dorm hall, and walking for both of them is getting more difficult by the step as Lance all but deadweights against Keith’s side. Keith’s trying to hold it together until he can deposit Lance in his dorm, probably force him to down some water at the very least, and leave him in the hands of his roommate Hunk, but he’s been a tempest of emotion since that kiss on the couch.

Keith doesn’t know what he’s going to do, but he knows he can’t keep doing this routine with Lance. He never should have let it happen in the first place, but the fear that Lance would go home with someone else and the power of his own desire were enough to drown out any logic that tried to save him from this. Now, Keith feels like his heart is cut open, not just that, but has been an open, bleeding wound ever since that first party, since the first time Lance looked at him with that hooded gaze, has been slowly cut wider each day they hang out and neither of them mention it, only to end up in the same position when the weekend rolls around again. He can’t just be waiting on Lance’s beck and call, only to be nothing more than a friend when the sun comes up.

When Lance kisses Keith’s cheek as he fumbles with the keys to Lance’s dorm room, Keith grits his teeth and blinks a little faster, knowing he has to make it through just a few more minutes before he can be alone and let go.

“Keith…stay with me.” The cut in Keith’s heart opens a little wider.

“Hunk’ll take care of you,” Keith grits out between his teeth, pushing Lance’s door open finally and stumbling them both through it. Except Lance’s dorm is empty, no Hunk in the desk chair where he’s always up late studying whenever Keith drops Lance off.

“Where’s Hunk?” Keith asks, bewildered. The shock actually pushes some of Keith’s rising emotions to the side for a second. Keith looks around like it’s possible the big guy is just hiding somewhere in the tiny room.

“Went home…grandma’s birthday…” Lance mumbles against Keith’s shoulder, sounding half asleep already.

This night just isn’t giving Keith any breaks. He can’t just leave Lance by himself while he’s this out of it. As much as Keith needs to be alone right now, he won’t leave Lance alone like this.

He get’s Lance settled in bed, pulling off his shoes but leaving his clothes because there’s no way he’s putting himself through that. He’s turning away to figure out if there’s a cup around so he can get Lance some water when Lance grabs his wrist.

“Don’t go.”

And just like that, all Keith’s emotions are back and washing over him like a tidal wave. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing away the tears prickling behind them as he takes a shuddering breath through his nose.

“Lance,” Keith says in practically a whisper without turning around, “please, stop asking for me when you don’t really want me. I can’t take it anymore, I can’t. It hurts too much.”

“Keith…”

“No!” Keith’s voice breaks as it finally raises above a whisper, and he pulls his arm from Lance’s loose grasp, taking a step away and still not turning around. “I’ll stay in Hunks bed tonight, to make sure you’re safe. But I can’t keep being your plaything when your drunk and bored or whatever your reason is.” Keith knows Lance won’t remember any of this tomorrow. He knows he’s basically just talking to himself at this point. Maybe that’s why he says it, in his softest voice that’s just above a whisper. “I love you, but you don’t love me. I can’t keep bleeding for you. I’m sorry.” Keith leaves the room, tears streaming down his face, and sinks into his heart break until he’s cried out. Then he heads back into the room where Lance is thankfully asleep, and climbs into Hunks bed to succumb to exhaustion himself.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

Keith wakes slowly. Sunlight makes his eyelids glow red, and his eyes feel tight still from all the crying he did last night. Hunk’s bed smells different, but not necessarily bad, and he’s content to stay right where he is and avoid facing the day entirely, until he remembers that he needs to check on Lance and make sure he’s alright. And probably make him drink that water Keith never got for him last night.

Keith cracks his eyes open reluctantly and glances toward the other bed, only for them to fly open when he finds the rumpled bedsheets empty. He pushes himself up, frantically thinking of all the horrible reasons Lance could be missing this morning (abducted by aliens, sleepwalking, kidnapped, kidnapped by aliens while sleepwalking!), when the doorknob jostles and Lance walks into the room, bags under his eyes like Keith has never seen and a paper bag and two coffee cups in his hands.

Keith freezes up, is pretty sure his heart doesn’t even dare to beat. Lance stares back at him for a moment, and Keith can’t figure out his expression. Hesitant? Regretful? Guilty? Whatever it is, it isn’t good, and Keith starts to question whether he somehow did remember everything Keith said to him last night. God, Keith hopes he doesn’t remember everything.

Lance walks over to his desk across the room from Keith and sets down the bag, before turning toward Keith and holding out one of the cups. Keith takes it and inhales the scent, if only to give himself something else to focus on besides this awkward tension between them.

After taking a sip from his own cup, Lance sets it down and opens the paper bag, pulling out two muffins and offering one to Keith. Banana chocolate chip, Keith’s favorite, and when he takes it he can tell Lance asked them to heat it up so it’s warm and soft. Unable to turn down the delicious smell wafting toward him, Keith takes a bite, comforted by the warmth in his belly. He’s considering how he’s going to escape now that Lance bought them breakfast, planning potential excuses to get him away as quickly as possible, when Lance breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Keith looks at him where he stands in the middle of the room. He must feel like shit after last night, but he still got up to get Keith coffee and his favorite muffin, even though the only hangover Keith is dealing with today is an emotional one. Keith scoots so he’s sitting up with his legs hanging over the side of the bed and pats the space next to him. Lance looks relieved, grabs his own muffin before hopping up beside Keith, but still leaving some space between them thankfully.

“What are you sorry for?” Keith looks at his muffin as he asks. He wants to hear Lance out, but he can only handle so much right now.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, for acting so selfishly, for being so caught up in my own feelings that I didn’t even notice that your heart was breaking too.”

Now Keith does look over at Lance, but Lance is using the same tactic Keith was, eyes firmly fixed on his muffin.

“Too?”

Lance chuckles, but it’s not a happy sound. “God, we’re so stupid. I can’t believe I made you cry… I might never forgive myself for not growing up and just telling you how I feel instead of hiding behind drunken nights and assuming you didn’t want more from me.”

“Lance,” he finally gets eye contact at that, and Lance almost looks like he might cry, and Keith just can’t have that. He leans in, his hand sneaking up Lance’s neck to cradle the back of his head, and he kisses him. Lance grabs onto Keith with the grip of someone who’s terrified of letting go, and kisses him back more like their kiss last night than any kiss before that. He tastes like coffee, which is a nice change from liquor and weed, and Keith takes it all in, and allows himself to hope, just a little bit.

Lance pulls back just enough to speak, pressing their foreheads together and still gripping Keith tight. “I should have told you months ago, but I was scared… I couldn’t lose you. Keith, you’re so important to me, I—”

“I love you,” Keith interrupts, can’t wait any longer, knows he said it last night technically but needs to reiterate under new circumstances.

“Hey!” Lance shoves Keith’s shoulder, leaning away from him, a familiar pout on his face. “Who interrupts a guy in the middle of an emotional, heartfelt confession slash apology?”

“Sorry,” Keith smirks, the tension finally broken between them, their normal dynamic coming back to the surface.

“You are not, you jerk. Maybe I won’t even say it, apparently you aren’t interested in listening to me anymore.” Lance goes to move off the bed, but Keith tackles him to it, hovering over him and fully smiling now. Lance's face dons the softest expression Keith has ever seen, his belly flips at the sight of it.

“I love you,” Lance finally says, reaching up to play with the ends of Keith’s hair as the hang down around his face.

“Thought you weren’t gonna say it,” Keith taunts, too caught up in their banter to be properly flustered by the confession, though he’s sure that will come later when he thinks about this for hours on end.

“You make me do strange things Kogane, like go back on my threats, and pretend I’m not tragically into you for six months.”

“Hopefully it’s not so tragic anymore,” Keith says as he leans down and kisses Lance again, because he can, because Lance loves him. Lance loves him. Lance loves Keith, and Lance is kissing him and he’s not drunk, and the sun is shining, and maybe he’s not sober right now, but he will be.


End file.
